


Destinies Intertwined

by heeroluva



Category: Dragon Age, Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Canonical Character Death, Dragons, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence, Pern, Pre-Slash, Rape/Non-con References, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-26
Updated: 2011-10-26
Packaged: 2017-10-24 23:37:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/pseuds/heeroluva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> Hawke had heard the rumors of the male healer that had Impressed a gold only to disappear as soon as she’d been old enough to go between. He wasn’t sure which had caused the most uproar, that the queen had chosen a male or that he was a mage.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Destinies Intertwined

**Author's Note:**

  * For [manic_intent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/gifts).



> This is very much a bastardization of both canons with addition of things of my own making to make them fit together.

Hawke had heard the rumors of the male healer that had Impressed a gold only to disappear as soon as she’d been old enough to go between. He wasn’t sure which had caused the most uproar, that the queen had chosen a male or that he was a mage. Mages had long been forbidden from attending Impressions, history telling tales of the destruction that Mageriders could bring. However, Hawke knew it was a load of piss, having seen firsthand the evil that normal riders could do. It was the quality of the rider that mattered, not the type. His sister had been so hopeful to Impress, so excited until she found out that she was a mage.

Hawke shoved the image away, the thought of his sister bringing nothing but pain. T’ler, his Weyrnleader, had been a blind coward. Weyrn born and bred, he’d been content to sit and do nothing, denying the purpose of the dragonriders, of the very Weyrn itself as the Holds around them fell to the Blight, the stain of the Darkspawn spreading across the land. However, there had been dissension in the ranks and a number of riders had gone out to fight, to protect the Holdings they’d grown up in, to protect the people that provided for them.

By the time Hawke had arrived at his old home, it had almost been too late. It had been a massacre. The blood… so much blood. Bethany and his father had died protecting Mother and Carver. Hawke hadn’t even thought of leaving before Tryfan took them all between, away from it all. His world had crumbled before his eyes, and he’d run like the coward that he’d accused T’ler of being. Leaving the Holding, Hawke had abandoned the name he’d been given at his Impression. G’rett had died there, and only Hawke was left.

He’d heard later that the Weyrn had been overrun that eve, the Darkspawn tunneling up from the inactive volcano beneath their feet in the dead of night. The mages spelled the Weryn to protect from threats above, not below, and they had been caught unaware. It had been a slaughter.

Months had passed and the Blight had been defeated largely in part to the actions of the Gray Weyrn. He’d found a safe place for Mother and Carver at Kirkwall, a holding over the sea, but he still could not forgive himself.

Tryfan suddenly faltered beneath him, and Hawke winched as he felt Tryfan’s guilt. Hawke ran his hand down Tryfan’s blue neck in apology. _I don’t blame you. There’s nothing we could have done except have died as well._

 _You are saddened._

 _Yes, and I probably will be for a long time. Do you want me to petition admittance into one of the local Weyrns? You must be lonely._

Tryfan snorted in disagreement. _I could never be lonely with you._ After a pause he added with a start, _There’s a queen near. She is sad._

Just as startled by the news, Hawke asked, _Is she going to rise?_

Tryfan hesitated for a moment. _No._

Hawke blinked at that. It was odd for a queen to be so far away from her Weyrn if it wasn’t for a mating. _There are no other dragons around?_

Tryfan sent him a picture of the area, showing only the queen.

A horrible thought twisted Hawke’s gut. If a queen lost her rider when she was egg-heavy, she would wait until the eggs hatched before she went between. _Can you talk to her?_

Tryfan sensed his intentions and slowly started spiraling down. _There is something blocking me. I do not like it._

 _Careful. Do not hide your approach. We don’t want to spook her or her rider._

As they grew nearer, Hawke was shocked by her size. Then it hit him. She wasn’t fully grown! Even still, she was still bigger than Tryfan, who was large for a blue, and she could do considerable damage if she wished.

Those multifaceted eyes followed their progress through the sky, but she did not appear threatened by their presence. Finally landing, Hawke feared the worst as he still did not see her rider.

Tryfan approached slowly, and she raised her head, bumping noses with the blue dragon. A wave of happiness washed over Hawke. _Her name is Aldyth, and she is very hungry!_ Then, _Her rider is injured!_

Aldyth shifted her great bulk to the side, and Hawke was at once infuriated by the remnants of tethers that dangled from her legs and shocked by the site of the man that lay pale in the hollow in the ground that was revealed by her movement.

This was the queen that had Impressed a mage!

Quickly sliding off Tryfan’s back, Hawke faltered for a moment when that giant head swung his way, her eyes swirling with color as she read him.

“I mean you no harm. Let me help your rider.”

Aldyth tilted her head in agreement, and Hawke grabbed the saddle bag off Tryfan, unsure what type of injuries he was dealing with.

Up close he could see that Aldyth had clearly missed one too many meals and wondered how long it had been since she’s eaten. _Tryfan bring a wherry for the queen._ Hawke showed a picture of the herd they had passed earlier that day. Tryfan instantly took flight and a moment later went between.

Hawke turned his attention to the blond man on the ground and was surprised at his age. This wasn’t the boy he expected, but a man in his twenties. Pushing the peculiarity aside, he began searching for injuries, removing his clothing as he did so. There was a large lump on his temple surrounded by dried blood, likely the reason for his lack of consciousness. Rolling him to his side, Hawke hissed at the thick latticework of scars and fresher cuts that striped his back. He’d been viciously flogged over a period of time. The more Hawke revealed, the more his anger rose. Removing his pants, Hawke swallowed against the bile that rose in his throat.

No one deserved this, much less a queen’s rider, and the reason for the tethers became startlingly clear. With methodical precision, Hawke went about cleaning and dressing the man’s wounds as best he could. Sometime during the process Tryfan appeared with a large wherry, which Aldyth immediately tore into. Tryfan popped between again to get another without prompting.

When he appeared again, Hawke had done all he could with his minimal supplies and wrapped the man in a blanket that he’d found on Aldyth’s back.

Tryfan offered Aldyth the second wherry but her stomach was clearly bulging. She nosed it at it, but in the end, the call of sleep after a full belly won. Her actions showed both her condition and how much she trusted Hawke with her rider.

Tryfan laid next to him, having clearly enjoyed a meal of his own. _Aldyth said, thank you. She was worried and feared he would die because of her._

 _Because of her? That a Weyrn could let this be done to one of it’s own no matter the caste, let alone a queen’s rider,_ Hawke shook his head in disgust. Gods, but men could be just as evil as those they reviled.

Tryfan’s attention suddenly focused on the mage at his side, and he nosed at the exposed arm. _You did not remove the bindings on his wrists or clean the wounds. They still pain him._

Hawke blinked and stared down at the bare wrist, not seeing what it was that Tryfan saw. However, dragons were highly attuned to magic, and if Tryfan said there was something there, Hawke believed him even if he could not see it. Carefully he picked up the man’s arm and felt along his wrist. Hawke’s mind was clearly telling him there was nothing there and to ignore it, but Hawke pushed it away, knowing that it had to be the work of a concealment charm.

Closing his eyes, Hawke left himself feel, and slowly the presence of something was revealed. It was some sort of cuff. Carefully examining its shape, he found the edge of the clasp. He forced it open, hissing in pain as his fingers were burned by protective spells on it. Finally open, he wrenched it off, wincing at the blistered flesh that appeared. Reaching for the other wrist, Hawke quickly repeated the process.

Once that wrist too was free, he wasn’t prepared to finding himself face to face with a fireball and eyes that glowed bright blue-white, the same color as the markings that quickly spread across the mage’s skin. “You will not take us back. I will—”

Aldyth’s large head suddenly appeared between them and Hawke scrambled back against Tryfan’s side. While dragons were immune to most magic, he couldn’t help but feel that this mage was anything but normal, wondering what he had just witnessed, if he had released something that truly deserved to be caged. But no, his family would be ashamed of him for such a thought. He did not know what this man had been through, had no right to judge him without evidence.

When Aldyth swiveled her head around, revealing the mage again, he was no longer glowing and his eyes were a stunning amber unlike anything Hawke had seen before.

The man raised a hand and ran it through his blond hair, his cheeks flushed bright with embarrassment. “I believe apologies are in order. Aldyth said that you cleaned me up and brought her wherries. She’s clearly smitten with you,” the words spoke of annoyance, but the tone was clearly loving, “and I must thank you. However, I ask that you kindly leave us be and forget you ever saw us. We don’t want any trouble. We don’t want to join another Weyrn. So please, just leave us be.” The last words were thick with emotion, his fear and desperation clear.

It made Hawke’s gut twist. “We’re not a part of any Weyrn. I would never—” Hawke paused swallowing past the hard lump that was lodged in this throat at the injustice of it all. “We just want to help. I saw the damage. I know what—”

“Don’t!” The mage flinched.

“Just let us help you, okay? We won’t tell anyone. My name is Hawke, and this is Tryfan,” he said, offering his hand and motioning behind him with the other.

The man stared at his hand suspiciously for a moment before turning his attention towards Aldyth. They were clearly having a conversation that he wasn’t liking if the frown was anything to go by. However, dragons were very rarely wrong in terms of those they trusted. “That’s not a dragonrider’s name,” he said at last.

“I was once called G’rett. That man is dead,” Hawke replied stiffly.

Finally, hesitantly, taking his hand, the man said, “My name is Anders. Given the situation, I have little choice but to accept your help for now.”

Hawke nodded. It was understandable. Realizing that their hands had been clasped longer than necessarily, Hawke took notice of the burns surrounding Anders’ wrists. Following his gaze, Anders finally seemed to take notice of the injuries and swore.

Dropping his hand, Hawke turned towards his bag, digging for the burn salve that he was never without. Turning back, Hawke noted that Anders had curled up against Aldyth’s side, making himself look impossibly small for a man that was obviously anything but. “Can I?” Hawke motioned with the pot.

Anders stared at him for a long moment before finally offering his arm. He didn’t flinch once as Hawke rubbed the salve over the blisters as gently as he could. Finishing with his other arm, Hawke said, “So I’ve never seen suppressors like that.”

Jerking his hand out of Hawke’s grip, Anders angrily said, “And you never will again. They were _made_ for me, and I will destroy them as soon as I’m able.” He raised his chin in challenge, daring Hawke to protest.

However, Hawke just frowned at that. The production of suppressors had long been banded, and Hawke had only seen a set once before, and never actually on a person. They instances that called for their use were clear and far between and Anders didn’t seem like the type of person that any of them applied to. “What was that earlier?”

Anders looked at Hawke askance, clearly weighing his words before he finally spoke. “Justice. I house a spirit of Justice.”

Hawke drew in a startled breath. There were stories. Old stories. Myths. Legends of Andraste and Flemeth, how they shaped the world with the spirits of old and created dragons to befriend and protect the mortal races. And here this man, this mage, Anders claimed he was one, or _housed_ one. It was laughable, ludicrous, but given what he’d seen, Hawke couldn’t help but marvel if it was true.

For a moment, Hawke wondered if he should be scared.

 _Trust him,_ Tryfan said, interrupting his thoughts.

Above all else, Hawke trusted Tryfan, so he looked, really _looked_ at Anders, and realized that he was still just a man, a man that had been dealt a bad hand in life and yet still had enough goodness in him to Impress a queen. So Hawke just smiled at him sadly and nodded his acceptance.

Anders blinked at him in shock, clearly not the reaction that he had expected, and hesitantly returned the smile.

“I won’t admit to understanding, but I can accept it. Get some sleep,” Hawke told him. “You can clearly use it, and it will help you heal.”

Anders looked about to protest, but a yawn ruined the image. Curling up against Aldyth’s warm side, Anders fixed his eyes on Hawke. “I don’t want to trust you, but Aldyth says I should. But I want to thank you, for—for everything. Thank you Hawke, you have my word that you will not regret it.” _Please don’t make me regret it._

His eyes drifted shut, and Hawke was left staring at him in amazement. With Anders’ words it was as though the world had shifted on its axis and nothing would ever be the same.

 _He’ll be good for you,_ Tryfan murmured as he pressed against Aldyth’s other side before sinking into sleep.

Hawke blinked dumbly at the dragons then laughed in disbelief when he noticed their tails twined together. Their dragons had obviously Chosen, and for long hours Hawke laid awake and wondered what that meant for him and Anders. Anders had a certain appeal to him, but Hawke couldn’t envision that, after what he imagined the mage had gone through, that Anders would welcome that kind of attention anytime soon. Hawke had never believed in destiny before, but some part of him knew for certain that he was irreparably bound to this man.

It should have scared him, but Hawke was oddly content with the knowledge.


End file.
